by Jill Cooper
When there wasn’t an answer, Susan squeezed her eyes shut and pushed the door open. “Marie? I made your favorite pancakes. Syrup warming on the stove.” She sighed at the sight of her daughter dressed but sitting by the window, staring out at the family oak tree.
She smoothed her skirt before moving into the room. “Marie,” she said, sitting beside her daughter and gave her a warm hug.
Marie sniffled against the collar of Marie’s skirt. “I was looking at that old tire swing. Remember how he’d push me? It seems so long ago now. Oh gosh, Mom, what if he’s hurt?”
“He’s not hurt. He’ll be back tonight. Now head down and eat, but don’t worry about your brother. Mom’s got this.”
Surprise flashed against her daughter’s face. Marie’s warm brown eyes were wide as she studied her mom. Susan would always love those eyes. “How?”
“Don’t ask questions. Just know it’s going to happen and we’re all going to be fine.” Susan took her daughter’s chin in her hand and kissed both cheeks forcefully. “I love you to pieces, Marie. Now be a good girl and do what you’re told.”
Her daughter nodded and wore a smile, the first Susan saw on her since Jake went missing. The teen didn’t ask any questions or say anything else while she picked up her book bag and headed for the kitchen.
Susan sat for a moment and tried not to cry. She forced the tears and the thoughts of everything she was about to do from her mind. Smoothing her skirt, she returned to the hall and nearly bumped straight into Jeff. “Well, there you are,” he said. “I knew you were somewhere since I smelled that wonderful breakfast you cooked.” Jeff grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close.
She took a deep breath, taking in his aftershave and allowed her head to fall against his neck in a deep nuzzle. His arms were warm against her in a big bear hug. His kisses and love made her feel safe, comforted, but Susan knew she couldn’t stay in it. Not today. Terrified that Jeff would see through her, she fought back tears and an angry sob, her mouth frozen open against his neck while her hands gripped his shoulders.
“Any word?” Jeff finally asked.
She shook her head, kissing his neck. Her lashes swept tears away with a few blinks. “No, but the police are looking. I’m sure—he’ll be fine.” Susan forced a smile and prayed that Jeff would buy it.
“I’ll drive around on my lunch break. I know his friends. I can talk to a few of them.”
He did buy it, and for a minute Susan wished he hadn’t. Her lips felt dry. “That sounds like a good idea. I’m sure by tonight he’ll be home for dinner and everything will be fine.”
Jeff’s eyes flickered across her face. “Are you sure you’re okay? Honey?”
“Just not sleeping well. You head downstairs and have some food. There’s juice in the fridge. Those new rations come in handy.” Susan gave a laugh and slipped away from her husband, but clung to his fingers before heading into the master bedroom.
She sat on the woven bedspread and unfolded a piece of paper from her pocket. On it a phone number was written. Susan picked up the receiver of the old rotary phone and waited for dial tone.
“Lawrence Stark,” a tired voice said on the other end.
“I need to see you. Today. Something’s happened.” Susan let out a slow breath so he wouldn’t hear how nervous she was. “I hope you remember me. This is Susan.”
“Well, Susan. Yes, I do remember you. It would be my pleasure to meet with you. Why don’t you swing by my home when you have a chance? My wife just baked a nice coffee cake.”
The color drained from her face. Wife. Children. Susan hadn’t thought of that. “Sounds lovely. If I’d like to have a word with you, alone.”
“Oh, my interest is certainly piqued. Yes, I’ll send everyone out to the park. Kids could use the exercise. Give me twenty minutes.”
Susan hung up the phone and nearly vomited inside her mouth.
It was suicide.
Her car idling in the driveway of the Stark home, Susan stared into her purse at the black revolver that was nestled between tissues, lipstick and gum. She had to do it. She had no choice. Susan knew she couldn’t tell Jeff or the police. For all she knew, the police were the ones who had Jake. In fact, she was pretty sure of it.
How would she get out of this alive? Susan didn’t know. But she would forfeit her life if it meant that her son would be all right. Jake had so much life, so much to live for.
Maybe she’d be lucky. Maybe things weren’t as bad as they seemed.
Susan snapped her purse closed before picking up the basket of muffins on the passenger seat and made her way up to the front door. The Stark home was one of the smallest she had ever seen. It made sense to her that he would be poor. He was stirring the pot, and the police would make sure he and his family suffered because of it. But maybe if they rewarded him, gave him the big pool Susan always dreamed of, maybe he would have kept his mouth shut.
Maybe now she wouldn’t be on her way to kill him.
She rang the bell and stepped the side, peering in the small front windows when she heard the latch from inside open. Lawrence Stark smiled at her almost like a doctor would. “Susan, it’s a pleasure. I have coffee on, please step inside.”
“Thanks for having me over on such short notice.” Susan followed him through the cramped living room and into the kitchen. It was small. The counters formed an L shape into a cozy dining space. The sunlight gleamed down on the perfectly clean floors. On the fridge was the artwork of small children in vibrant watercolors.
On the table was a coffee carafe and small plates for snacks. The perfect host, Susan thought. How many times had she done the same thing?
“Please have a seat. Is this about your son?”
“Yes,” Susan answered meekly. “I found him. I know a way to get him back.”
“And you’ve come to me for help?” Lawrence smiled smugly. He turned his back and poured two cups of coffee. While he did that, Susan fumbled with the clasp of her purse. Her fingers shook so bad she almost couldn’t get it open. She grabbed the gun, wrapping her fingers around the butt and pulled it out. She dropped her purse to the floor in the commotion and used both hands to steady it, while aiming at the back of Lawrence Stark’s head.
Do it now, Susan thought to herself, tears stinging her eyes. But she couldn’t.
“One lump or…oh,” Lawrence put his hands up as his eyes fixed on the barrel of the gun. “Well, I see. You had no intention of eating my wife’s coffee cake, did you?”
Susan bit her lip. “How can you make jokes?”
He stirred sugar into his coffee. “I’ve expected they’d try to kill me eventually, but I didn’t think they’d send you. Just shows how dangerous I’ve become to them and their way of life. I suppose I should beg you not to do it, for my wife and children, but the truth of the matter is, it doesn’t matter. The movement is bigger than me so I am ready to die for it. It will carry on without me.”
“You’re giving speeches, even now?” Susan re-aimed her gun and pulled back the safety. It wasn’t as hard as she thought. The muscles in her arms pulled taut. She fought her mind’s surging command not to shoot, but her heart’s desire was to finish the job. The gun wavered in her hands.
“But I love my children, Susan. Just as you love yours.” His voice begged with a soft tone. When he looked up, Susan saw the fear in his eyes. “What I do is for their future, for yours. You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do. They have my son.” Susan gritted her teeth. “They’ll kill my son!” The color drained out of her again. She felt faint and knew if she didn’t do it soon, she never would. Instead she would rip Lawrence’s face off with her fangs. Once she tasted his blood, it would be over. Really over.
“And you think this will save him? You’re a pawn. We’re all pawns here. Nothing we do matters. All that matters is that we’re locked up, like animals. We deserve more. We deserve better, but while we’re locked up here, nothing will—”
His words were cut
off by the bullet colliding with the side of his head. Susan squeezed her eyes shut as her face was splattered with his blood. She almost couldn’t feel her finger press the trigger. Susan could barely remember even telling herself to do it. She opened her eyes again as Lawrence’s body slumped onto the kitchen floor. It convulsed and shook. Susan screamed and covered her mouth.
The phone rang.
Susan suspected it was for her. She rushed to the wall and put it to her ear, but she didn’t say anything. The voice on the other end of the line was hushed, but almost sounded like a woman’s.
“Wipe the gun clean and leave it by the body. Well done.”
“What about my son? I want to see my son.”
“You don’t have much time. Better hurry.” The line went dead.
Susan found a dishrag by the sink and did as she was told. She tiptoed past him and straight toward the front door. Glancing around, she saw the dead-end street was clear.
She drove home, hopeful that when she got there, Jake would be waiting. In her mind she played the scene out, how they would hug and he would promise never to lie again. But Susan would just be glad to see him. All she would do was hold him and be glad he was back, no matter what happened to her.
Angry sobs shook her back and forth. She could barely see the road all the way home and her body convulsed, but the way was clear of traffic and every light she got to turned green. Almost like someone wanted to make sure she got there in one piece.
****
No Jake.
Dinner was in the oven and the table was set, but Susan’s mind was a mile away back at Lawrence Stark’s home. The memory of what she did replayed itself on an infinite loop. Each time his body fell, Susan pressed her eyes closed and squeezing her fist around her blue handkerchief.
She dotted at her eyes, peering out the front door. When she heard sirens she hurried to the kitchen window to see over the neighbor’s fence, but Susan couldn’t make anything out. The sirens faded and she couldn’t help wonder if they were looking for her.
Hours passed and her phone hadn’t rung and no one had come. When was Susan going to see her boy again? The front door slammed and Susan quickened away from the window and hurried to the hall. “Jake?” She called breathless and with hopeful eyes.
Marie turned, her books cradled in her arms. “Is he here? Is he?” Her voice was rushed.
“No,” Susan’s heart wrenched and her daughter’s face fell crestfallen. “But soon.” She gave a brilliant smile. “Soon, I hope. I made his favorite for dinner. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
Marie’s eyes gazed at her shoes, her shoulders concave around her small frame. Susan stroked her hair, rubbing it between her fingers. “Why don’t you peel some carrots for me? I need them shredded for the salad.”
Susan’s mind fluttered about and only the ticking of the clock signaled the passage of time. If not for the kitchen timer, dinner would have burned to a crisp. She used her blue potholders to place it on the burner, and while it rested she called Marie to the table when the phone rang.
She grabbed at it, nearly tipping over a pot of gravy onto the floor. “Hello? Jake?”
“It’s me, darling. Are you all right?”
Megan. Susan took a breath and closed her eyes. “Fine. Fine. I’m fine. Just about to sit down to dinner, so if you’ll excuse me—”
“Too busy for a word of gossip? C’mon now, Susan Monroe. I’m sure you’ll want to hear it if it concerns Lawrence Stark.”
Bile rose in her throat and her heart plummeted to her toes. “Excuse me?”
“Dead.” Megan’s voice was flat as if speaking about the weather. “Dead as nails, done as dinner. He was shot, point blank, it seems. The entire town is in a fit. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard yet.”
“Well, with the Chief—” Susan mumbled, wiping a stray crumb from the counter.
“Yes, the Chief,” Megan’s voice cut through the air like a freshly sharpened blade. “I guess they were just biding their time to take him out. To find the right situation, the right person. I guess they’ve won, haven’t they?”
Susan threw a glance over her shoulder to make sure the coast was still clear. “What do you mean, the right person? What are you trying to get at?”
“Me? I’m just making an observation. Are you sure you’re all right, darling? What if I come over after dinner? We can talk, if you need to. I’ll bring a crumb cake.”
“I’m sick of crumb cakes and talking.” Susan took a deep breath. “Just no, no Megan. I’ve had enough.”
“Well, something has your mood set foul. Don’t get mad at me, Susan. You were the one who asked to be taken to meet Lawrence Stark.”
“That’s not what happened. And you know it. That’s not what happened!”
“It is,” Megan hissed. “And that’s exactly what I told them when they were here.”
“Who?” Susan whispered, holding the receiver close to her mouth. “Who asked?”
“The police. Just a few minutes ago. I thought I should warn you before they get there.” Megan sighed. “Did you really think you were ever going to see your son again?”
Susan’s eyes were moist as the receiver went dead. “Megan?” She begged timidly, wondering if Megan was ever really her friend or maybe her friend never came back from her reconditioning. Maybe her friend was eradicated, wiped out in sessions designed to change her personality forever.
She placed the receiver back on its cradle with care before smoothing out all the imperfections on her skirt and stepped into the dining room. Susan’s mouth opened to speak, but the sight of her family swelled pain in her chest. Her eyes focused on the empty seat beside Marie and a sob crept its way out of her mouth. Susan put her hand over her face and cried.
Jeff was at her side in a moment’s breath. “Just calm down, Susan. We just need to eat dinner. I don’t know about you, but those mashed potatoes look fluffy enough for an angel to ride to heaven on.” His smile sickened to her. How happy he looked and how gleaming white his teeth shone. What a price they paid for their perfect lives.
Her eyes narrowed into slits and her tongue lashed at her teeth. “How can you be so normal? Our son is missing and you want to sit and have dinner?” Susan’s hand rose to slap him, but she stopped in mid swing as horror crossed his face.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you. We have to remain calm. We can’t—”
“Make a scene? Have an emotion that isn’t pleasant?” Susan’s attention fell to Marie, still seated at the table. Her fork was in her hand, but her eyes were frozen on her parents. “Marie, grab your coat. We’re getting out of here.”
Marie nodded and pushed her chair back as Jeff grabbed his wife’s arm. “Have you lost your mind? Where are you going to go?”
“We have to get out of here. Now. You can come with us, but either way I’m going.”
“Going where?” Jeff demanded.
Where could she go? There were no hotels, nowhere to hide out where the police couldn’t find her. “I don’t know. But I can’t just stay here and wait for them to come and get me.”
Jeff’s eyes fogged over and his frown deepened. “Who? What the heck is going on, Susan?”
“Are we going to get Jake?” Hope laced Marie’s voice.
Susan wished she could have said yes when Jeff erupted like a long-dormant volcano. “Jake? You know something about Jake and you’ve kept it to yourself? Where he is?”
So finally he cared. Finally he showed some emotion, but Susan knew she was out of time for explanations when the doorbell rang. Tears dripped from her eyes and she took a shaky breath. “Out the back. Grab your car keys and we’ll go out the back.”
Jeff fumed, sucking on his bottom lip and his cheeks flushed with anger. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on. What you know and what you’ve been up to!”
Susan shook her head, backing toward the hall. His eyes looked at her with betrayal and that was exactly how she felt. She heard
voices outside. “Police! We’re coming in due to your non-compliance.”
Marie gasped and looked up at her father, her eyes brimmed with fear. “Daddy!”
Jeff yanked his daughter close and hugged her to his chest. Marie buried her face against his shirt, trembling in fear. His eyes were pinned to his wife and they held no love and devotion. He threw accusations though his clenched jaw. “What did you do, Susan Marie?”
Her mouth opened to respond, but only managed a squeak. As the front door splintered behind her, Susan grabbed the steak knife from the table and spun as two police officers burst inside. Guns were clipped to their belts; restraint harnesses were in their hands.
“Stay back,” Susan warned, holding the knife out with a firm grasp of her hand. “I’m not going anywhere with you until I hear about my son!”
One officer stepped forward, his hands in the air. “Mrs. Monroe, I think you know this will go badly for you. Why don’t you put down the knife and just answer a few questions?”
“Mom,” Marie begged behind her, “please.”
Susan lowered the knife. “What about my son?” Her voice squeaked.
“We don’t know anything about your son.” He took the knife from her hand. “We’re here to ask you about Lawrence Stark.”
“Lawrence Stark?” Jeff asked.
The officer nodded. “He was murdered. The vids were tampered with, but we were lucky and caught some street surveillance of the car leaving the scene. Matches your license plate number, Ms. Monroe. We’re going to need you to come down to the station for some questioning.”
Marie cried out, covered her mouth with her hand. Her knees collapsed and Jeff caught her, holding her to his chest. The image was pure anguish to Susan felt like a bullet tore through her to see her daughter so distraught.
“I just want to see my son.” Susan’s voice cracked. “Where’s my son? I...he was supposed to come back. I did what you wanted. I DID!”